Jurong: Ground Zero
Here in the west side of things,
there is no setting sun to speak of
The dust clouds that gather in this industrial hub
fails to settle
hovering above and around
the people of this town,
always failing to hit the ground
The lorries and trucks here beep to the workers’ song,
their engines humming along
People living in clustered homes,
lying on their sofas with eyes transfixed
It is a sign of sleeplessness on a day like this,
rather than mere wakefulness
Like the electricity their veins
that courses through they are made to
s t r e t c h
and forcefully pounded
back into shape
dumbfounded
straight andhappy contented,
until the formations
of their lives have
been molded into
the superstructure
and the rest
(left behind)
are simply slotted
into the cracks
buried deeper
and deeper
and deeper
until the cracks can no longer be seen on the surface of things
and life goes on as usual without the setting sun
a life without pauses but constant poundings
as the dust clouds above gather like thick blankets
designed to tuck us into a life of sleeplessness
